


Balm

by Crowgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Backrubs, Drabble, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Blame the E! poll for this one, too. The captcha word was "stiff" this time.</p></blockquote>





	Balm

‘Dean -- ow! -- why must you -- ow!’

‘Sorry, buddy. It’s better if I do this now, believe me.’

‘It is very sore.’

‘Yeah, I can tell.’ Dean sits back on his heels for a minute, greasy hands palms-up on his knees and regards the man spread before him.

Under normal circumstances, he’d be delighted at the prospect of getting Cas half-naked and sprawled out on the bed. Even though he’s pretty much forgotten what “normal” circumstances look like at this point, he’s fairly sure they don’t include Cas having a swollen bruise the size of Dean’s two hands coming up between his shoulder blades.

‘Dean?’ Castiel cranes his neck around, pillowing his cheek on the back of one hand and blinking at him. ‘What is wrong?’

‘Where d’you want me to start,’ Dean mutters and sighs and rubs the back of a wrist over his forehead. He doesn’t feel that great himself -- having the best part of a wall land on him and Cas hadn’t improved his afternoon any. No spook to make pay for it either -- just an old house falling to pieces around them. And Castiel’s angel juice had drained away getting them out from under the rubble. He doesn’t want to think about the ringing in his ears and the distant sound of Cas trying to shift the bricks and boards above him.

He takes a deep breath and arches his back, trying to stretch out the muscles he can feel clenching in the small of his back. ‘C’mon --’ He nudges Castiel’s hip with his knee. ‘Lie straight. I don’t want to make this worse.’

Castiel frowns and turns his face back to the pillow. ‘I am not sure that is possible.’

‘Oh, it is.’ He can feel the muscles in Castiel’s back tightening up, knotting around the injury in an attempt to protect it that he knows from long experience will only hurt worse tomorrow. Dean tries to be as gentle as he can, rubbing the balm into the muscles around the bruise and simply stroking his palm over the bruise itself.

‘Sorry ‘bout this...’ He swings a knee over Castiel’s hips and settles himself straddling the angel’s thighs and holding himself up on his knees, trying to put as little weight as he can on Cas’ legs. He pauses for a minute and looks down at Castiel’s naked back and shoulders, the pale skin, arch of bone, curve of muscle. If circumstances were different--

‘That hurts, Dean.’

‘I said I was sorry.’ Dean places his hands carefully to either side of Castiel’s spine, just above the rise of his hips, and takes a deep breath, putting a little weight on his palms and trying to visualise the muscles unknotting under his hands. He smoothes his hands down over the curve of the muscle.

‘That...feels good.’ Castiel sounds muffled and surprised.

Dean snorts. ‘Thought you said it _always_ feels good, Cas.’ He slides his hands up a few inches and repeats the stroke, pressing the muscles away from Castiel’s spine, following the curve of his torso around his ribs. 

His own hands are starting to warm from the mint and cinnamon balm and he pauses for a moment to recoat his palms. He smears a little on his shoulder under his t-shirt and winces; raising his arm at that angle points out all the stiff places in his own back.

‘Are you all right, Dean?’

‘Always am.’ He rubs his hands together and presses them lightly over Cas’ shoulderblades. The bruise is coming up dark, purple and nearly black, and he can feel the heat coming off the swollen skin. He lays his hands gently over the bruise, trying to imagine it disappearing when he takes his hands away. 

‘Dean.’

‘Yeah, Cas.’

The angel shifts his head slightly on the pillow and his voice comes out clearer. ‘May I do your back? When you are done with mine.’

Dean pauses for a minute, then runs his hands gently over Castiel’s shoulders, pressing a thumb over the arch of his collarbone. ‘Sure, Cas. That’d be good.’

**Author's Note:**

> Blame the E! poll for this one, too. The captcha word was "stiff" this time.


End file.
